Our Own Special Differences
by green-eyed-demoness2010
Summary: A more accurate portrayal of b!p Kurt and his journey toward acceptance, family, and love. Mature rating cuz there will be smut and angst. Klaine all the way!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: … I honestly don't know what to say about this one. Maybe it was reading all of these b!p Kurt fics (and one b!p Blaine fic) that's been floating around and I got curious, maybe it was my medical terminology class that got me researching diseases and disorders for a project, I really can't tell what started this…**

**So, I'll make this a starter or teaser if people like it. **

**Described herein is an actual, real disorder. I have researched this to make sure all my facts were correct. I remember reading all these b!p fics with no one explaining anything other than either hermaphroditism (which is only found in animals, I checked that too) or he was intersexed (which can mean many different things all around). So for this fic, I found an actual disorder that would explain everything accurately while putting my own little spin on it. **

**Please, if anyone wants to know more about this condition outside of the fic, either for fact-checking or just to see that I didn't make it up, Google "PAIS Grade 3" which is the most common grade and the basis for this fic. **

**Also, if you like how this is heading, or are interested in reading more, please leave a comment or review and tell me what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one! Depending on how it's received, I'll have to figure out a more concrete plot since I do plan for this to be Klaine/M rating. **

*****P.S. Please take note of the times I've prescribed before each section! This is majorly important as this fic will contain large time gaps between scenes! Also, some OOC characters!**

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_October 2009_

Kurt grumbled as he fought with the cap that covered the needle of the small syringe, muttered French curses leaving his lips as his overly moisturized hands kept losing their grip on the smooth plastic. With a small cry of success, the cap finally popped off in his hand and was placed on the counter. Grabbing the small vial of liquid that sat nearby, and carefully lining up the needle with the rubber septa of the lid, Kurt slowly measured out the appropriate dosage and pulled the needle back out.

After checking for air bubbles in the syringe, Kurt plunged the needle quickly into the skin of his hip. Kurt fought the natural urge to flinch and tense his muscles at the sharp pain, forcefully pressing down on the pump and pulling the syringe back out in two seconds flat. Sighing quietly in relief that the task was over, Kurt started cleaning up his bathroom counter. He popped back on the needle cap, tossing it into the nearby waste bin before storing the small glass bottle back into his small mini-fridge next to similar glass bottles.

It was only after closing the fridge door did Kurt feel the ever-present weight on his shoulders, that indescribable pressure of his situation and how fucked up his life really is. If it wasn't enough that he lived in this backwater Bible-belt town in the middle of Ohio, his peers so much less musically and fashionably cultured than himself, and add onto that his own controversial sexuality, well, his _condition _is just the cherry on top of the crap sundae that is his life. It just wasn't enough that the God he didn't believe in had to drop him in a society that hated his very existence for something that was so inherently a part of himself that it might as well be his eye color, He just had to include this little bombshell that would only further exclude him from the human race.

Sighing again into the quiet early morning air of his bathroom, Kurt checked his appearance one more time in the mirror before walking back into his basement bedroom, the dove gray walls soothing his harried mind as he gathered his materials for school. In most respects, the ninth grade wasn't too bad in terms of academics. The teachers barely taught the minimum of any subject, the assignments far too easy for Kurt's intellect. But the social scene, however….

The social scene was absolute _Hell_.

Every day was another battle, another war against the ever growing ignorance and prejudice that constantly mocked and degraded him in the forms of slushies, slurs, and a never-ending stream of bruises. If it wasn't for the fact that he was a minor while his Dad was still oblivious to his son's unique characteristics (his sexuality) and was very much rooted to the town of Lima, then Kurt would have run off to New York at the first opportunity. At least there, he wouldn't be considered a "homo freak" and would honestly be appreciated for his talents, but for the time being, he remained a citizen of Lima, Ohio, aka Purgatory.

Just imagining the obstacles he would face today sent shivers down his spine. He could already tell that the jocks would corner him and toss him in the dumpster_ again_ as they've been doing for the past two weeks, so he planned ahead and packed an extra set of clothes in his well-worn leather satchel. Anticipating at least two slushie facials before the end of the day, he slipped in a small travel bag filled with tiny bottles of cleansers and stain treatments for his clothes. The tiny white box decorated by a red cross went in as well without a second thought. No use musing over why that was needed.

Kurt vaguely wondered if Finn Hudson would be among the jocks that would toss him into the dumpster today. The tall teen had started the habit of offering to hold whatever item that Kurt deemed too important to allow desecrating via garbage. The small act of kindness brought a swell of warmth from within Kurt's chest, a far diluted remnant of the happiness that he once shared with his mother before her death roughly nine years earlier. Kurt could tell that the addictive partial compassion would soon blossom into some form of crush on Finn.

Kurt could also tell that whatever type of affection that he would have for the tall jock would also never come to fruition in a relationship. Kurt had decided after much thought that Finn would be considered a "safe crush," the kind of crush that you just knew would never work out and would never be returned. Finn was simplistic, had no refined qualities whatsoever, and hung out with the largely homophobic crowd that, while showing some pity on the poor gay kid of Lima, had also never tried to stop the harassment that Kurt endured. Finn was safe because nothing would ever happen between them. The kindness was there to keep the fire going, but wasn't anywhere near enough fuel to turn Kurt's small campfire into a roaring blaze. So in that light, Kurt allowed the infatuation to continue, if not for anything better to do with his unlimited free time of having no friends at all and a father that worked for most of the day.

But as Kurt ruminated over his minute crush on Finn Hudson, a small, dark part hidden in the back of his mind whispered that even if Finn returned whatever feelings he had for him that any kind of relationship would fail completely. No question about it. His condition made that a certainty.

Willing away the tears that inevitably followed the constant realization of that fact, the fact that no matter who Kurt ever ended up with, the guy would still turn tail and run for the hills as soon as Kurt explained himself completely, he pulled on his satchel and headed for the front door. Checking his eyes one more time to make sure not one drop of saline spilled, Kurt grabbed his keys and walked out the front door into the chilled fall air, locking it behind him.

Yes, it didn't matter which man in the world that Kurt ended up falling for, the man he would give his whole heart to and more, it still didn't change the gut feeling he had that when all of Kurt's secrets were laid out on the table, the man would leave him. He would have his heart broken irreparably, shattered into millions of pieces as the one constant fear in his life came true. What true gay man would ever want him? How could any out and proud homosexual male want Kurt as he truly is? Who would want to deal with that kind of baggage and constant reminders that Kurt wasn't like all the rest, that he was too different even for gay guys?

How could Kurt ever find someone who would accept him when, if viewed in a generalized light, he wasn't totally male in the first place?

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_November 2010_

Kurt huffed to himself as he sat on the living room sofa, Burt sitting next to him and taking up a large amount of corner space. Carole and Finn weren't home yet, what with Carole picking Finn up from a late football practice. The hour was growing late, but Carole had called not too long ago to say that she and Finn were leaving the McKinley parking lot and picking up some food on the way back (and yes, most of it would be up to Kurt's scrupulous health standards for his father). But it wasn't the possibility of his Dad scarfing down potentially heart attack-inducing fast food that had Kurt squirming in his seat, his fingers constantly picking at his designer, charcoal gray sweater in anxiety.

Burt had come to him two hours ago to tell him that it was time to have….the talk. Not "the Talk" as other kids were often terrified of having, but rather the inevitable, embarrassing, horrendous talk that Kurt knew would have to happen eventually if this whole "Dad and Carole getting married" thing was going to work. It was only a matter of time before Carole and Finn caught on to Kurt's daily ritual injections and frequent doctor's appointments, and started asking questions. Burt had made the decision that if he and Carole were going to join their families together, there had to be as little secrets as possible. And that included Kurt's condition.

Kurt, being who he is and how comfortable he was with the whole thing, naturally balked and attempted to talk his father out of it. But the stern, no-nonsense expression on the mechanic's face brooked no argument. Regardless of how much Kurt would be embarrassed by it, they were going to have this talk. Carole and Finn needed to know.

So here they were, the two Hummel men sitting in near silence in the living room, the TV channel on some game but the sound muted, just waiting for Carole and Finn to arrive. The quiet was eating Kurt alive inside, his thoughts racing at a decent 85 miles per hour as he attempted to predict the reactions he would be getting tonight. He had a strong feeling that Carole, after getting over her shock, would initiate her nurse's training and accept the situation as something that just is. No point getting all bent out of shape by something that can't be changed and wouldn't change who Kurt is. Finn, on the other hand…

Kurt was secretly terrified by what's Finn reaction would be. Sure, they had moved on from the basement fiasco of last year, apologies given on both sides as they forced themselves to talk the whole thing through. Egos were bruised and battered, personal humiliation galore, but they had pushed through it and accepted it as yet another example of how they were teenagers and teenagers make mistakes. It had taken time, but the two boys had grown far more comfortable in each other's presence, personal space included. Finn became much looser in his interactions with Kurt, a few times reaching out and initiating touches and bro hugs. Kurt, likewise, didn't flinch as often as he used to when confronted with the jock's large frame colliding with his or getting into his space.

But for Finn to move beyond his steadily disappearing homophobia was something totally different compared to the situation he would be confronting tonight. This talk would forever change how he viewed Kurt and everything he believed of the countertenor. Who knew how the overgrown teen would change his behavior in accordance to this new perspective on his soon-to-be stepbrother?

Kurt worried his bottom lip at this thought. He had just acclimated having Finn as a roommate and future brother in his head. The routines were slowly being set between them. Things were running more smoothly than ever thanks to Finn's blunder in mentioning Karofsky's harassment and helping in getting the bully expelled, leaving Kurt to experience a far less terrifying reality for once in his high school existence. Kurt was free to devote more time to glee, to his Dad, and to their growing family thanks to Finn. But this would turn it all upside down. Finn would never look at him the same way again.

Both men jumped when they heard the jangle of keys and the front door being pushed open, the thundering steps followed by a second sedate pair as Carole and Finn headed into the house.

"Finn, don't you dare crush that bread, you hear me?" Carole called after her son as he bounded into the kitchen. "I understand that you're hungry, but if that bread is in any way misshapen, it'll be deformed grilled cheese instead of homemade pizza tonight."

"But Mom!" Finn whined as the sound of paper bags crinkled when their weight found purchase on the kitchen counters. "That only happened a few times!"

"I don't care, Finn. We all use the bread and if it's smashed, then no one gets to really enjoy it. I'm serious, next time you hold the bread, treat it like an infant or one of those parenting dolls. Gently."

"…But Mom, I broke that doll." Burt and Kurt could hear Carole's long-suffering sigh.

"Oh Finn…"

As no more talk came out of the kitchen, Burt looked at Kurt and tried to smile supportively, but the grimace Kurt received did nothing to reassure him. Kurt could feel his lungs starting to hurt as the growing anxiety gripped his chest. His fingers were starting to wear the hem of his sweater thin when his father's large hand reached out and covered his dancing digits, stopped the frenetic movements. Looking into his father's familiar kind eyes, Kurt attempted to take slow, deep breaths and calm himself down. He squeezed his dad's hand tightly when he heard the footsteps come closer to the living room.

When Carole and Finn came to the entrance to the living room, as soon as they spied the serious and nervous expressions on the Hummel men's faces, their own smiles fell away into the stoic silence.

"Carole, Finn, we need to talk for a minute." Burt quietly explained, still holding Kurt's hand like a life-line.

"What's wrong, Burt? Did something happen?" Carole asked worriedly as she slowly sank onto the nearby armchair. Finn remained silent, looking confused, as he lumbered over to the chair next to his mother.

"No, nothing happened. It's just…" Burt trailed off for a moment, but the quick squeeze from Kurt brought him back. "We just really need to discuss something. Together. As a family."

Carole looked at him expectantly, relieved that nothing bad had happened while she and her son were away. Memories of all the horrible things that had already happened to the two Hummel men left her wary of leaving the house some days, too concerned over the well-being of the two new men in her life, both of whom she loved with all her heart.

Burt was such a good man, that she knew without a doubt. Although he seemed gruff and blunt at first, she knew from experience that his roughened edges were just a defense mechanism that he had formed to protect himself and his only son. Hearing of the abuse Kurt had been forced to endure for years with only his father by his side, Carole felt her own heart break each and every time she confronted the ignorance of the locals that had caused the poor boy so much harm and tears. Getting to know Kurt and loving him as a second son, she found the town largely hypocritical and cruel that they could be so welcoming and understanding of simple-minded bullies while Kurt suffered in silence and neglect just because he was gay.

But seeing how Burt never stopped loving Kurt, seeing that fatherly love never waver, so often reminded Carole of her Chris so long ago. There were many times that she missed her husband, the man he used to be, and often wished that Finn had gotten the chance to know his father before he left. But seeing how Kurt had been affected, of knowing his mother before she was taken from him and how he was left with the grief and loss, there were other times she was glad Finn didn't have to deal with that. She counted herself so lucky to have these boys in her life, and hopefully for the future to come with their engagement.

Burt sighed once more, feeling more and more uncertain of how to proceed with this touchy subject, but he wouldn't shy away. It needed to be said.

"Kurt and I need to tell you two something. It's something that's really personal to us, but mostly to Kurt. He and I have talked about this, and with me proposing, we agreed that it was best to get this out there before the wedding….just in case."

"Just in case of what, Burt?" Carole questioned, slightly uneasy with how this talk was going. For a moment there, it sounded like Burt was afraid she would leave him.

"What's wrong, Burt?" Finn piped in, still confused over why there talking.

"Nothing's wrong. Not at all. But there is something that we've been keeping from the two of you. We didn't know if Carole's and my relationship would come this far, and believe me when we say that we're glad it did, but the two of us wanted to be sure this, all of us, was going to happen before we told you." Burt explained, hoping to ease the other two into the coming bombshell. Carole still looked a bit bewildered, but was listening intently, respectfully keeping mum. Finn, fortunately, hadn't busted out with scores of questions, so that was just as good.

"Carole, Finn, Kurt's not like other boys. And no, this isn't about him being gay at all. What I'm trying to say is….Kurt was born differently than other boys…than other kids. He has-"

"I have Partial Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome." Kurt finished, the first time he had spoken in the last hour.

Silence. Kurt started blushing heavily, his face a deep rosy red as he focused his gaze on the carpet. Burt didn't let go of his hand, but he didn't say a word.

"Partial what?" Finn asked while Carole scrunched her brows, trying to remember from her nurse's training and shifts at the clinic what that particular disease was, but couldn't come up with anything useful.

"It's called Partial Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome, or PAIS. It's a hormonal abnormality that causes severe birth defects. To put it simply, Kurt was born with….well, I guess it's, um….um…God, how do I put this…uh-"

"Oh for Gaga's sake, Dad! Just say it! I WAS BORN WITH A **VAGINA**!" Kurt exclaimed, ripping his hand from his father's while he covered his face, curling over himself into a ball on the couch.

More silence….of the shocked variety.

Carole's eyes had widened considerably, her mouth dropping open as she stared blindly at Kurt. Finn looked like he was about to pass out, to be honest, a high squeaking erupting from his mouth. Kurt moaned in mortification, too afraid to pull his face away from his knees as Burt began rubbing his back, his own shock coming through in a deep flush as he certainly didn't expect Kurt to just blurt it out like that.

"Are you _serious?_ But I thought Kurt was a boy!" Finn suddenly yelled, his eyes wide like dinner plates. Carol e jolted out of her own stupefied stance to grab hold of her son's arm and shush him.

"Finn! Don't say things like that! Let them explain." Carole soothed, even though she still looked just as shaken, as she looked to Burt once more.

"Kurt is a boy, Finn. All the way down to his DNA, he is a boy. But while Elizabeth was pregnant with Kurt, there was a complication. Due to a hormone imbalance, even though Kurt was, is, and will always be a boy, he was born with…extra stuff. Yes, with stuff that you'd normally find on a girl. And just because he has a ….you know, does not make him any less of a male, understand?" Burt asserted, satisfied that Finn vaguely nodded his head, still stunned.

Carole also nodded, now that her training allowed her to start thinking clearly. "So, Kurt's intersexed?"

Burt nodded, relieved that she understood what he was trying to say.

"Yeah, Elizabeth and I were concerned and unprepared when Kurt was born the way he was, but the doctor assured us that his health wasn't in jeopardy because of his condition. He was still a healthy, full-term baby. But because of his physical appearance, they diagnosed him as being intersexed while being genetically male, and suggested surgery to correct anything. At the time, Liz and I didn't have the money or the insurance to pay for both Liz's medical bills and a serious surgery for Kurt. Unfortunately, our funds never recovered enough to do it while Kurt was an infant."

"When Elizabeth got sick and died when Kurt was six, all thoughts of dealing with his condition were put on the back burner, what with settling Liz's chemotherapy bills and the funeral. The next time we went to Kurt's pediatrician, he mentioned that while surgery was always possible, Kurt would have to start hormone replacement therapy when he hit puberty to keep his development in check. The main reason we needed to talk to the two of you was that when Carole and I get married, we'll all be living together. Eventually, one of you were going to notice that Kurt has to take regular testosterone injections every day and that he would have a lot of doctor's appointments throughout the year, far more that Finn would have. We felt that before you started asking questions, we would just clear it all up now instead of later."

Carole began to nod when she reasoned it out in her head, knowing that injections, syringes, prescriptions for hormones, and visits to specialists would certainly be noticed at some point. Being a nurse and a doting mother to both boys, she had no doubt that eventually she would have seen the signs that Kurt wasn't like a normal teenage boy, and the questions would have come naturally.

Taking a moment to absorb all of this information, Carole felt her stomach settle and her nerves begin to calm. She understood from a medical perspective that anyone with this condition would instinctively try to conceal it, try to hide it from the people around them for fear of persecution and prejudice, so the open honesty Burt and Kurt had shown her today warmed her heart and soul. This was the defining moment of acceptance that she hadn't even known she was waiting for. Both Hummel men were being totally honest about a very sensitive subject in their lives, opening themselves up to be especially vulnerable to Carole and Finn. If there was one thing in this world that such an action proved, it was that Burt and Kurt were very serious about becoming a blended family, of welcoming her and her son into their fold without hesitation. She understood that if there was a shred of doubt within their minds about this upcoming marriage and domestic upheaval, then they wouldn't have sat down and started this conversation. They wanted this to happen. They wanted to be a family.

Carole began to tear up at that realization. If she hadn't thought it was possible to love these boys any more, then she was greatly mistaken. Pulling herself off the couch, she strolled over to kneel in front of Kurt's huddled form on the cushion. With Burt and Finn watching, she enfolded the delicate boy into her arms, tucking him close to her heart.

"Oh, Kurt, your condition doesn't change who you are. All it does is make you more unique and special. I don't think I can ever explain how much your honesty means to Finn and me, but what I can say is that we still love you and that will never change. You are an incredible young man, and I am so blessed to be a part of your family now. I love you, Kurt." Carole murmured into Kurt's hair, threading her fingers through the strands as Kurt's body slowly unfurled enough to hug her back, the tentative touches growing in strength until he clutched at her with life-line force.

Finn watched with wide eyes as his mother soothed his soon-to-be stepbrother. Even though Finn often had the reputation of being simple in comparison to other guys, even he could tell that just by admitting something so bizarre about himself, that Kurt was trying to make this "blended family" thing work. Sure, he had kept it a secret for so long, but Finn didn't blame him. Finn shuddered to think of what would happen if Kurt's condition ever reached the ears of the other jocks on the football team. The harassment would become absolutely intolerable, and he had no idea what Kurt would do about it. Seeing how scared and embarrassed Kurt had been after yelling about being born with a…vagina, Finn had to admit that it must have been borderline painful to say in front of his old crush and his dad's girlfriend. But above all, it had to have taken guts, and that Finn respected. Every day, Kurt was proving braver than any guy he had ever met. He just wouldn't let the bullies prevent him from living his life, being his true self, and Finn began to puff up in admiration for the guy that would soon be his brother.

Following his mom's lead, Finn pulled himself out of his chair and crossed to Kurt's side opposite Burt. Placing his large hands on Kurt's back, in the spaces not already covered by his mother's arms, Finn leaned in close to Kurt's exposed ear.

"It's okay, dude. You're still you. You're still Kurt, the greatest kicker the Titans have ever had, one of the only Cheerios to ever earn Coach Sylvester's respect, and my future stepbrother. Who cares if you have anything extra or were born different?"

Kurt hiccupped, the vibration running up into Carole's and Finn's bodies. Turning his head to the side in order to see both of them, he gave a watery, grateful smile at their reassuring words.

In the presence of his father, the only remaining family he thought he had, Kurt found acceptance and love in the newest additions to the Hummel clan. And for those few moments, his burden didn't seem so heavy, his world not so dark. Who knew what the future had in store for him? Who knew if he would ever find this same acceptance in the outside world, in Lima, Ohio, of all places? Kurt didn't have these answers. All he knew was that within this house, he didn't have to hide anymore, not from his family.

Kurt chuckled weakly. "Thank you."

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**A/N: Please, please, please tell me what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: …. O.O**

**Okay, I've officially bumped this story to a Mature rating….**

**Holy shit…. **

**I've written actual smut….. true-blue, honest-to-God smut….. HOLY GRILLED CHEESUS ON A STICK!**

**Warning! Described: solo masturbation both male and female (mostly female), and masturbation with a foreign object. Yes, it is graphic, but not filthy or disgusting…..hopefully. **

**DON'T LIKE IT, CLICK THE BACK BUTTON NOW! FINAL WARNING!**

**Also, I didn't include Blaine in this because I tried a different second chapter than this, but it failed miserably. I just couldn't make it work right. However! I give you this promise, the next chapter will have Blaine in it, as well as Kurt/Burt interactions as well. **

**So, be satisfied with the very first full-on smut! **

**P.S. Pay attention to the dates! I made sure they were accurate!**

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**It has come to my attention that FF is deleting stories that contain MA content, saying that Rating M only allows suggestions of sex and vague descriptions without allowing any of the gritty details. I'm actually saddened by this since I **_**thought**_** we were in America and that we had the Right of Free Speech. Not like there aren't worse things out there on the internet anyway.**

**I also thought that was why the site even had a rating system at all! If one doesn't want to read anything with Mature content, then set the rating and just be done with it! I have contacted StarGleekBelle, an author that has been notified of their stories and knows an author that had to date 30 stories deleted, and they explained the whole situation. They also explained that they would be posting on until the admins/owners/whatever come after them and forcefully delete their stuff. After that they would be posting elsewhere.**

**Sadly, that may be me soon. I only have two M stories up, but with the addition of this chapter and the final chapter of Heels to come later, I may consider posting those two chapters on DA so FF doesn't get on my case about it. **

**So, if it comes down to authors vs. admins, then I will continue posting here until otherwise notified to stop. Then, I will post on DA. My DA profile name is on my FF profile, but just in case:**

**www.( )green-eyed-demoness( ).deviantart.( )com **

**Remove spaces and parentheses. I have a folder for Klaine fanfiction available. **

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_March 5, 2011_

It was two am on a Saturday morning and the air of the house was still and quiet, hushed in the earliest hours of the day. Every window was darkened, the doors locked tight, and every resident tucked away into their beds, their rooms draped in shadow. The wooden beams and joists had settled hours ago, the slight groaning as the house relaxed after a long day of just plain living, the activity of the humans within finally slowing as the sun dropped from the sky.

Carole and Burt rested quietly in their shared bed, with Burt snoring lazily as Carole shuffled into his shoulder in her sleep, tucking the covers up under her chin. Down the hall, Finn was sprawled across his mattress, every appendage askew until he resembled a long-limbed starfish, his own snoring ragged and deep. His blanket shifted with every noisy exhalation, inching further and further off his body until it inevitably found its way to the floor to be found in the morning.

One more door down from Finn's lay Kurt's tidy sanctuary. His door closed firmly to block out Finn's incessant snoring. Within, Kurt's walls were decorated in a tasteful blue-gray with white trimming, the colors reflected in the curtains on his windows, rising gracefully with the mild spring breeze from the small crack above the window sill. His white shelves, filled with his most sentimental belongings, photos of him with his friends, with his father and new family, with his mother, perfectly placed in their assigned spots to better accentuate the stylized feng shui that Kurt created in his space. The posters and photos that adorned the pale walls were obscured from view, hidden away from the meager light that filtered from the outside street lamp and moonlight. The bed, wide and covered with a blanket the color of doves, stood in the middle of it all.

But unlike the muted quiet that filled the rest of the house, the air inside Kurt's room was broken by light, heated pants. Small, desperate whimpers followed, their pitch high and needy as the figure on the bed twisted and jerked from side to side. One pale arm emerged from the rounded cocoon, flying over to grab the fabric in a tight grip before abruptly releasing over and over. The pants grew heavier as covered legs kicked and writhed, serpentine shapes that roamed the bed's surface. A deep moan pierced the atmosphere, a sharp gasp and sudden jerk of the occupant's body ended with one Kurt Hummel shooting up in his bed, startled, half-conscious, and _unbelievably_ horny.

Groaning in frustration as he muddled his way back to consciousness, Kurt glanced down at his lap and cursed the heated bulge he found hiding in his loose boxers. His dick, as hard as any rock, pulsed within the confines of his cotton underwear, tenting the light blue fabric. With every breath Kurt took, his cock rubbed along the cotton and the seams, the friction both pleasurable and painful all at once on his heated skin. But it wasn't just his cock that was complaining, the internal ache and hunger of his pussy was just as powerful. It felt like his clit had its own heartbeat, throbbing intensely beneath his cock. And as if he needed any more evidence that his body was going out of control with desire, the moist humidity of his shorts told him that his pussy was sopping wet as well, the folds engorged and slick with his own fluids.

Slumping back into the pillows with a soft thump, Kurt groaned in his sexual frustration and need, harshly scrubbing his tired eyes with his hands. Fuck, he couldn't even remember most of the dream he had been having, the shapes too blurry and distorted to make any sense of who his dream lover could have been. All Kurt could remember were hands, wide and tan and slightly roughened with calluses as they passed over his flushed skin, tracing his trembling muscles and limbs until Kurt was gasping for air.

However, the culmination of the dream hadn't been the interesting foreplay, as those hands thoroughly explored his torso and back, with their owner's face still obscured in the dark of his mind, but when they had ventured south without any hesitation. Now Kurt could tell that his Dream self was aware of his condition, obviously as he recalled rubbing his legs together to soothe that particular ache while still in the dream, but the situation his other self found himself in kinda blew his mind. Not only was his Dream self unafraid of what his fantasy lover might find down there, but he practically _begged_ to be touched there!

And those hands had done just that. It was only when the very tips of those warm, textured fingers had dipped into his gushing folds to touch his engorged clit that Kurt had jolted awake, immeasurably turned on by his mind's imagined sensations and the simultaneously present arousal.

Huffing at the circumstances he was in, Kurt sighed and closed his eyes and attempted to will away his erection. He tried to picture what he normally did whenever his body rebelled like this, such as tacky 70's clothing with their horrid polyblends and spandex, his Dad dancing to Single Ladies (which ended up more funny than boner-killing), even Sue Sylvester in one of her own Cheerio uniforms. But no matter what he started with, somehow his mind kept drifting back to those hands as they traveled all over him, touching him in places that no one else had ever seen, much less touched, before. After roughly ten minutes of trying to soften his dick mentally, Kurt gave up. I guess he was going to have to do this the physical way then.

Shuffling off his comforter, Kurt peeled off his boxers and laid them to the side. He shivered as his skin erupted in goosebumps at the cool air hitting his warm flesh. Trembling slightly, Kurt settled himself against his pillows and closed his eyes. Calling up the tantalizing images of his dream, Kurt moaned under his breath as another spike of arousal hit his groin, a sharpness blooming inside his abdomen. Still keeping his eyes closed, Kurt kept his breathing as steady as possible as he began to slowly skim his fingertips over his skin, imitating what his mind remembered. In his mind's eye, he saw those same tanned fingers drift over him, felt the light scratch of nail as they trailed over his chest, circling his nipples with tender, whispering touches. As they perked and beaded, one lone fingertip commandeered the very tip of his right nipple, swiveling it back and forth like an old-school video game joystick. Kurt gasped as he fidgeted against the sensations.

Moving on from there, his other hand palmed his pectoral and glided downward to his stomach, tracing the faint outlines of his abdominal muscles, not stopping until each one was outlined and shaking, twitching underneath his pale skin. Still tweaking his nipple, Kurt allowed the other hand to keep traveling until it skated along the deep grooves of his hips, brushing the sensitive flesh inwards until it reached the valley, tangling and rubbing against the meager, trimmed chestnut hair to be found there.

With tentative fingers, Kurt allowed his hand to lightly dance along his erection, the firm shaft standing tall at an impressive six and a half inches (impressive for his condition, that is), feeling the pulsing veins that ran up and down the appendage. It physically jumped at the attention, the skin flushing an even darker pink. The head began to dribble clear drops of pre-cum, pooling in his slit before rolling down the sides, providing an interesting lubrication that his fingertips took great care in spreading all around himself. Kurt whimpered in the back of his throat at the sudden change in temperatures this action caused, how the hot, dry skin differed from the cooling, wet skin from the small breeze floating around the room. Finally deciding to end the torture, Kurt grasped his erection firmly, his palm covering most of the shaft completely as he began to slowly stroke himself. Kurt's pants and whines, still quiet enough to keep the rest of the house oblivious to his naughty, night-time deeds, came faster and faster as he kept rubbing his cock, twisting every two strokes to keep his arousal on the edge.

But still, that internal ache wasn't satisfied. His pussy was still wet and waiting, his clit practically crying for some relief of its own. Even within his fantasy, Kurt couldn't ignore his other parts for very long. Naturally, rubbing one out with his dick like any normal boy would work for the short-term for Kurt, an orgasm by any other name would still release his tension. But as obvious as it was, Kurt was still different than all the other normal boys. Because of his condition, Kurt's penis was smaller than other males, although his 6.5 inches was definitely pushing the scale towards being overly-endowed compared to what physicians and medical textbooks said he could look forward to when he hit puberty. Still, knowing that he still lacked in that area made Kurt uneasy and slightly ashamed when it came to masturbation. However, when he attempted vaginal orgasms as an alternative, he found that they could be even more satisfying than he ever anticipated.

Teasing himself, Kurt ran both hands down his chest and sides, one side having finished loving on his now-hard nipples while the other left trails of pre-cum all along his ribcage. They met each other at the junction of Kurt's groin, finding each other underneath his cock where his slit began. No need to worry about his balls as they weren't apart of his external physical body. Dancing his fingers over his swollen labia, Kurt shivered at the drastic change in humidity, the heat that poured off his pussy nearly tangible in the cool morning air of his bedroom. Using both hands to part his outer lips, Kurt moaned as his inner lips parted and stretched, as if waiting for something to sate its hunger. With one lone finger, Kurt quickly found his clit.

Kurt cried out weakly, his body jolting as his index finger pressed down on the hard bud, the nerve endings within sparking and firing. He tossed his head around his pillow, his auburn hair splaying across the pillowcase and his own flushed forehead, as he increased the pressure, savagely growling in his throat as his started to circle the top of it, massaging the sides before returning to smoothing the pad over the top again. It became a vicious, insatiable cycle. He kept rubbing, changing direction or speed to fit his fanciful dream, his blown out eyes still closed in determination to keep his imaginary lover still there, still loving him despite his differences. Kurt couldn't keep breath in his lungs, he was breathing too fast to keep any semblance of control over himself. He was almost becoming high off the oxygen deprivation to his brain, the minor pain in his chest only heightening the fervor as he masturbated.

But God damn it, that ache was still there!

He had been touching himself for what seemed like hours now, but his body just wouldn't get to where he wanted it to be! He could feel the tide inside him growing, almost cresting and giving him that delicious release he had been craving all night, but each time he fell backwards, just short of the finish line. Cursing in frustration into the still darkness, Kurt had to step up his little game if he was going to find any pleasure tonight. Taking a finger from his other hand, Kurt led it to his pulsating opening and pushed in.

Oh fuck, yes! That's what he had been wanting! That irreplaceable feeling of something inside you, filling you and stretching you, claiming you like nothing else, that's what he wanted, what his body was telling him it wanted. Pushing the finger further, he was able to feel his own walls tighten and widen around him, the smooth slickness no matter where his finger went was becoming intoxicating to Kurt. The higher temperature of his body felt scalding to him, so markedly distinct from anything else, surrounded his finger the further he went in, only to be stopped by his own hand hitting his outer lips. Whining and whimpering, Kurt wanted to go further, to soothe that deep throbbing but his own physical limitations kept him from it. He tried to thrust his one finger in even more before giving up and trying a second finger as well. Kurt mouth watered as the stretch became more intense, the grip around his two fingers squeezing them together. He could practically feel how close his fingers were to where he wanted them, where he could feel the tips of his fingers and where that burning need was were so close, but still so far apart.

Fuck, he needed more. He needed something longer than his fingers.

Half insane with arousal, small cries forcing their way past his red, bitten lips where he at least tried to keep his noises quiet, Kurt finally opened his hazy, glasz eyes to his shadowed bedroom, darting frantically around the room in search of something, anything to fuck himself with. His desperation was riding high as he kept searching in the gloom, not finding anything remotely sufficient to aid him until he reached his vanity. There, lying on the table's surface next to his skincare bottles and lotions, was an older, round navy hairbrush, the handle long and smooth and abso-fucking-lutely perfect.

Scrambling off his bed, catching the corner of his blanket and almost dragging it off the side, Kurt stumbled over to his vanity to grab the brush. Holding it in his hands, feeling the smooth cylinder firm and hard on his palm, the length a suitable six inches and only one inch wide, Kurt shivered as he imagined how full he would feel with this inside his starving pussy. Hurrying back to his bed, Kurt sprawled himself down on the sheet, no longer caring that his blanket was half-hanging off the side or that the pillows were in shambles. He had better things to worry about.

Holding the spiny, bristled top in his hand, the small plastic ends digging into his palm to add to the overwhelming physical stimulation, Kurt allowed the smooth rounded end of the handle to tease his outer lips, gliding up and down each side before running it across his inner lips, gasping harshly at the alien sensation of something else other than himself touching his most intimate parts. He kept this up for a few moments, buying time to try to steady his breathing and his pounding heart. Moving the handle inward, his trailed it over his inner lips, feeling his clit clench as he put his finger back on it, rubbing in small, light circles. To prepare his new-found toy, his uprighted it against his sopping pussy, doing what he could to coat the plastic handle with his own juices to ease entry later. His hips responded with enthusiasm, involuntarily thrusting up against the brush, nearly riding the thing as he kept moving it up and down against his sensitive labia.

Kurt moaned deeply, his mouth dropping open at the sensations he was experiencing. He was getting just enough friction to slowly start driving him towards his peak, the rubbing growing more frantic as his hips bounced on his mattress, but he still craved more. With a weakened whimper, Kurt forced his hips to stop their fun and return to the bed, turning the handle in his hand to the horizontal, pointing straight at his opening. Pressing ever so slightly against his hole, Kurt panted in anticipation.

As the tip of the handle entered him, Kurt was forced to bit his lip hard to keep from crying out loud enough to wake the rest of the house. Even though it was only an inch wide, the stretch still caught Kurt by surprise, his virgin walls trying to accommodate the firm, unrelenting hardness that was trying to gain entry to his body. He winced as he felt a small, sharp pain come from his pussy, not enough to make him stop, but enough to make him slow his progress. With only one inch inside, Kurt stopped to catch his breath, every inhale reverberating throughout his body down to his core where his walls tried to tighten only to be stopped by the handle. He knew, even through the sexual haze in his head, that to force it in now would be far too painful to deal with, and would undoubtedly hurt him if he attempted it. The best way to continue would be to keep it slow and steady.

After a few minutes, Kurt took a deep breath and started pushing again. The give was a bit easier now, as his slick walls had widened enough to take it, and within moments the handle was all the way inside. Feeling the rounded handle hit the end of his pussy, Kurt gasped harshly at the feeling. Tiny exhalations of incoherent noise escaped his throat, high-pitched whines, as he basked in the waves of sensations, how he could feel every part of the brush handle pressing back against his pussy walls, how his opening had widened far more than he had ever felt before, and even how it seemed his hips had adjusted, too.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Kurt actually began to lose control of himself after that. His hips wiggled in desperation, causing the handle inside of him to shift around, hitting sensitive spots that Kurt didn't even know he had. The moans spilling out of him only increased when he gripped the brush tighter and started to move it. Feeling the tight glide of the handle as he pulled it almost all the way out, Kurt shuddered at the sense of emptiness it left behind. Determined to not feel that way for any longer than necessary, Kurt shoved the "toy" back in, grunting as it hit home.

What followed could only be described as Kurt finally following his lesser, male instincts. His upper consciousness shut down completely. All that was left was the base desire and raw hunger for his own orgasm. Barely even feeling how the bristles dug into his palm, leaving deep red pock marks in their wake, Kurt began to pound away at his pussy, the handle flying in and out of him at such a pace it became a dark blue blur. His juices started to overflow, squelching out the sides of his hole and running down the creases of his quivering thighs and ass. His cock, which had been practically abandoned up to this point, bounced and leaked pre-cum like a waterfall, his fluids soaking his already sweat-covered skin.

Kurt grunted and groaned, growled and whined like an animal in heat as his hips joined in again, bouncing and grinding against the handle, making each thrust in that much harder and deeper. Kurt's head flew back, digging into his pillow at how he was essentially fucking himself senseless. His finger was dancing frantically over his swollen clit, the hyperactive bud metaphorically crying out for more and more and more. His mouth fell open, driven to take in more air than his heaving lungs could process. Glasz eyes, glazed over with passion and arousal, were slitted and staring off into space, no longer seeing the physical world, only envisioning his dream lover hovering over him, driving his sharp hips against his as his cock fucked him six ways from Saturday. Delirious murmurings for more, harder, _yesyesyes_ just kept coming, meant for ears that didn't exist.

Bending his knees in an attempt to help his enthusiastic hips, Kurt yelped at how the new position opened him up even more, aiding in driving the brush handle even deeper into his aching pussy. Kurt huffed into the dark, feeling each hit like an earthquake inside of him, sending ripples of tremors to every muscle and tendon, causing his pale toes to curl into the sheets beneath him. He could tell when his orgasm was approaching, the clenching of his pussy, his abdomen tightening, and that growing tide towards that "point of no return," that one small moment when you started to fall off the edge, where your stomach drops and all you could feel was bliss.

Fuck, he needed to get to that point like yesterday.

It was a good thing that Kurt didn't have much longer to wait. Thanks to his vivid fantasy and his ingenuity in getting himself off, Kurt was speeding towards his climax like a bullet train. Within seconds, Kurt could feel his abdominal muscles begin to tense in preparation, the sharp clenching of his insides were becoming harder and harder to control, repeating again and again as each hit came harder than the last. His body spasmed hard one time, jolting his eyes open to stare off into the dark, his pupils blown so wide they seemed nearly black. Kurt's mouth fell completely open, exhausted formless cries tumbling out to compete with the rushing blood in his ears.

Fuck damn it! He needed to keep going!

His hand kept moving, pushing and pulling despite the forming tiredness and pain in his wrist. His finger that was punishing his clit was starting to cramp too, but fuck all if Kurt was going to stop now. He was so _close!_ His back arched obscenely at one sharp hit to his G-spot, a few tears spilling out of his unseeing eyes as his pleasure multiplied five times over. Fuck, just _a few more!_

Then all at once, Kurt snapped.

He didn't even expect it. Didn't even see it coming. Two more thrusts were all it took to throw Kurt right off the side and straight into his orgasm. His thighs and calves and abs all clenched tight, pulling Kurt's body almost into a perfect c shape before they abruptly let loose, like a puppet's strings once they've been cut. Only one sound permeated the humid silence of Kurt's room, one pleading word that pierced the shadows.

"_Blaine…."_

Choking on his own air, Kurt fell back against the damp pillows, his body swarmed with incontrollable spasms and tremors to the point he nearly had a seizure, his toes digging grooves into the sheets as he continued to stroke and fuck himself through every pulse of spine-tingling bliss. Kurt's head, hazy and unclear and oh so satisfied, fell back as he panted, his mouth wide open and dry with his fast-paced huffing. His stomach felt sore and fatigued, the minute shivers causing flare-ups every time they moved against his will.

His pussy clamped and squeezed like a vice around the brush handle, making it harder to fuck himself since his hole kept refusing to let it go, his juices overflowing until they soaked his thighs and through the sheets to the top of the mattress. His cock virtually exploded all over him, strings of white cum shooting out of him until they splashed all over his chest and neck, seven whole shots before they started to slow and flow out of him freely, swamping his groin with sticky, bitter fluid. One more gasp, one more spasm, one more jolt, and Kurt was done.

Collapsing onto the bed, his arms finally retreating from his throbbing pussy and sprawled beside him as his chest heaved and panted. Weak whimpers and groans from the intensity of his own climax filled Kurt's mouth as he tried to wet his palate, his thudding heart still beating away like a ceremonial drum. Kurt still couldn't hear well, not over his own rushing pulse, and his eyes had dimmed somewhat as he relaxed, waiting for his body to come back from the pleasure-induced numbness. The brush was still inside of him, still hard and firm against his tired pussy, and he knew that it had to be removed soon so he could sleep, but for now he let it be.

Taking a few seconds to simply float in the contentment of the moment, Kurt finally felt the haze begin to lift from him. His head was starting to clear, making thinking so much easier. His body had fully relaxed, regaining his fluid grace and maneuverability. And at last, his desire and frustration was gone, fucked out of him completely. Glancing over to the clock on his bedside table, Kurt saw it was around three am, still too early to be awake by any means. Deciding that now would be the best time to clean himself up, since he could already feel his cum drying on his chest, Kurt had reached down to pull the brush handle out of him when he remembered.

Freezing in place, stone still in shock, Kurt remembered what he had said at the very moment of the most intense orgasm of his life.

He had said Blaine's name.

Jerking out of his frozen state, Kurt nearly ripped the brush handle out of his pussy, not even paying attention to the aching soreness that came after it, and threw the brush to the floor as far from him as his could. His eyes were wide and terrified as he watched it land near his dresser, the one that still smelled like his dead mother. Curling away from it like it were a snake ready to strike, Kurt huddled onto his side, clutching himself to keep the realizations away, but it didn't work.

The images kept flashing in his head, of the dream that had started everything, and when taking the time to review the small bits of flesh of his imaginary lover, especially the hands, Kurt let out a choked sob when he saw how the hands matched perfectly. They were the same hands, the ones that had caressed him so tenderly and sensually in his head were the same hands that always gesticulated wildly and excitedly whenever Blaine got onto a subject that truly interested him when they talked over coffee, the same callused fingers that he watched strum the strings on Blaine's guitar as he practiced his own written songs, and the same tanned palms that liked to casually slip next to his own pale one whenever Blaine held hands with him in Dalton's halls. Feeling warm tears fall down his face to seep into the pillow, Kurt felt bottomless wells of shame and disgust rise within him.

My god, how could he have done this? How had it reached this point? _What was wrong with him?_

It just wasn't enough that all the times he had let himself fall too hard, too fast, he had gotten burned. Oh, no. It was so much worse now. So much worse.

He just had to go falling for his incredibly hot, intelligent, funny, kind gay best friend, the only guy that he could possibly see himself having a relationship with, the same guy that had friend-zoned him on Valentine's Day and was only interested in other gay guys.

The same friend that would most likely run in terror if he knew the truth about Kurt, that he wasn't a normal gay guy like he thought, that he was abnormal, unnatural…..monstrous.

Kurt couldn't hold in the sobs anymore. Pulling his legs up against his still cum-covered chest, curling his arms around himself to keep his sanity together, and totally ignoring the soreness coming from his groin, Kurt cried his heart out.

This was wrong, all of it, wrong.

Clutching his hair and pulling, Kurt allowed the pain to come, hoping to punish himself in some small way for what his mind and body had done. He had let Blaine into his heart while ignoring the risks, he allowed Blaine's form to enter his dreams where he was the most vulnerable, and now, he had used Blaine to masturbate to, as wanking material, hidden away in the darkness of his own room on a weekend home from school. He had desecrated Blaine's place in his life and heart by using him in such a filthy way, to get himself off like some pubescent, hormone-ridden pre-teen.

And even worse than all of that, he had insinuated that Blaine would welcome his differences, that he would welcome the disfigured body that Kurt inhabited. Oh yeah, like any man would want the mismatched mess that Kurt was. He had stuff he shouldn't while lacking what he should. He had to take artificial hormones to keep his body from flipping out and his development on track. He had to visit specialists that kept telling him that plastic surgery was always an option, like the only way he would ever be accepted is if he went under the knife, cutting himself up and scarring himself horribly just to look even slightly more normal.

And Blaine wondered why Kurt was so hesitant over talking about sex?

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't do this to Blaine or himself. Blaine had already proven that he wanted someone in his life, but that someone wasn't Kurt. He would much rather have anyone over Kurt, be it Gap guy or Rachel or anyone, Kurt wasn't an option anymore. And for Kurt, the pain of being so unwanted was becoming too much. He already had to battle his feelings of self-worth when it came to his PAIS and how it affected his _platonic_ relationships with others, but for Blaine to just waltz in and mess with his heart like that, to string him along until Kurt was sure that maybe, just maybe, it would finally work out all right, and then crush his feelings like a worthless cockroach was just too much to bear.

Kurt lay there in the dark for 20 minutes, growing silent and still while his tears and cries gradually slowed to a stop. The wet tracks on his face began to dry before he moved again, causing his face to itch, but he didn't care. All he could think about was his own shame and self-loathing, his own certainty that no one, not even the one he loved, would ever love him back the way he wanted.

As his mind circled around these dark thoughts, Kurt pulled himself up off his bed and stiffly walked to the dresser. Staring at the soiled hairbrush for just a moment, he bent down to pick it up and walked to his bathroom. Turning the water on to a small trickle, Kurt mechanically washed the brush clean before shoving it in the trash without a second thought, pushing it down far enough that it wouldn't be noticed. Cleaning his hands, his torso, his thighs, and wetting an older cloth, Kurt returned to his bed, his face still blank and drawn.

Pulling off the blankets and pillows, Kurt stripped off the fluid-soaked sheets and proceeded to scrub the stain away from the mattress, using as much force as possible to dig the cloth into the quilted top to clean away all evidence of what had transpired, like if he scrubbed hard enough, it would erase the last hour and a half from history. Only when his arms began to protest his avid treatment did he let up. Tossing the sheets, the cloth, and his soiled boxers into his laundry hamper, Kurt pulled out his spare set of sheets from a storage tub underneath his bed and redressed the mattress. Only when every element of his bedding was back in its proper place did Kurt change into a new pair of boxer and slip back into bed.

Scooting away from the still-damp place in the middle, Kurt huddled underneath his covers and tried to go back to sleep. But with the way his mind was now whirling in his depression, low self-esteem, and regret, Kurt highly doubted that he would be getting any sleep that night, no matter how much he yearned for it. It's just how life worked for Kurt.

Because if there was anything Kurt had learned in his 16 years on this planet, it was this.

Life was never fair.

* * *

**A/N P2:**

**I am honestly terrified about hearing feedback for this. I'm not kidding. I have never written smut like this, so I am scared out of my mind. I just can't believe that this came out of my head, but oh God, did it pour out of me the last few days. It just wouldn't stop until I wrote this one out completely. **

**But please, tell me what you think! On the smut and the angst! NEED FEEDBACK! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: …. **

…**Um, if I could say how sorry I am about keeping you all waiting for this chapter, I would. Sadly, my pathetic blubbering and groveling doesn't translate well over a simple AN like this on, so you'll have to use your imaginations in order to get the full affect. (*cue Spongebob with his rainbow hands "**_**Imagination!"**_***)**

**That being said, I know that my last AN stated that Blaine would be in this chapter, but….**

**I've kinda come to a standstill concerning how the whole "Kurt reveals all to Blaine" interaction is going to turn out. I only have up to Blaine arriving at the house, so…. Yeah. It kinda sucks. Any tips about that? Leave a comment if you have a good idea, cuz I wouldn't mind getting some inspiration!**

**BUT! I WILL NOT GIVE UP! **

**However, updates will be few and far between right now. I'm in my last semester of college (WHOOT! GRADUATION THIS DECEMBER!), and I'm currently living with a five year old that constantly demands attention while awaiting her soon-to-be-born little brother. One can see how writing a b!p Kurt/Blaine fic could have some production delays. **

**So, because Blaine is only mentioned in passing, please accept this batch of Kurt/Burt Hummel-family fluff! OH THE FEELS! (*cries*)**

* * *

_July 2011_

Kurt paced around the kitchen, circling the island like a hawk as he kept biting his lip and glancing at the clock. He wrung his hands constantly, squeezing and pulling on them until he knew that he would have to moisturize them twice to get them back to normal later on that night. But if it weren't his hands he was picking at, it was his dark grey, soft cotton sweater that he enjoyed wearing around the house, and he just couldn't condone wearing out the threads of the hem even when he was nervous and, dare he say it, scared.

Another glance at the clock told Kurt that his Dad would be home soon after finishing off another shift at the garage. He would open the door and clomp inside with his dirty work boots, calling out into the house to see if anyone was home as he slid off the old, cracked leather shoes to set them to the side of the doorway on the mat. He would then set his keys on the small mail table in the hall, taking off his hat to rub his bald scalp before putting it back on as he strode to the kitchen for a drink just like every day.

But today was going to be different…. A lot different.

Today, Kurt was going to be waiting for him, filled with anxiety and embarrassment as he attempted to ask his Dad for advice….

Personal advice.

Like relationship advice.

For him and his boyfriend of four months, Blaine Anderson.

…Oh, joy.

Kurt jumped at the sound of his Dad opening the front door, his keys jangling against the brass knob. He could feel his stomach dropping, seeping into his house shoes.

"Anybody home?" He heard his Dad call into the house, followed by two heavy thuds where his shoes found themselves on the mat.

"In here, Dad." Kurt called back, just barely managing to keep the quaver out of his voice. No reason to scare his Dad into thinking there's something worse going on with his son….besides the minor freak-out he was already having.

Burt lumbered into view as he walked into the kitchen, his old, red plaid shirt still carrying traces of grease and smelling of motor oil, scents that Kurt had always associated with his father. He was about to reach for the fridge door, going for a Kurt-approved drink to quench his thirst after working in a baking, mildly air-conditioned garage, when he finally looked at Kurt and stopped in his tracks.

Looking hard at Kurt's face, Burt saw plenty that told him that something was up with his son. Kurt's pale face seemed even paler except for a fair amount of pink on his cheeks, his normally smooth forehead wrinkled slightly as stray strands of auburn hair fell from his usually tightly controlled style. His son had his arms wrapped round his torso, one arm crossed over his stomach while the other rested on top of it, his hand tucked near his chin as it nervously played with his sweater's collar. But the one truly revealing thing that Burt saw that had his own stomach turning were his son's eyes, portals of blues and grays and greens that could never lie to him, a open window to his son's soul….just like his mother's.

Burt began to get very nervous when he looked into those familiar eyes. The only time he had ever seen them so anxious and furtive was when he was trying to shake off that Karofsky kid's threats after Finn had blurted them out during dancing practice for his wedding. He had refused to really look at his Dad that day, just standing there mentally flailing as he attempted to play off the seriousness of the situation he was in, but Burt had seen his eyes. They had looked terrified then.

But Kurt's eyes didn't have that same stark fear emanating from them, so Burt wasn't going to let himself get too worked up, but they were still nervous enough to concern his father.

"You alright, kiddo?" Burt asked carefully, drawing his hand back from the fridge. It seemed to take a moment for Kurt to understand the question and try to formulate an answer, but Burt was a patient man.

"Yeah, everything's fine, Dad. I just….need to talk to you about something." Kurt replied softly before looking his Dad in the eye, straightening his spine and gracefully crossing his arms as he did so.

"Sure thing, Kurt. What's it about? Should I be worried?" Burt asked, sitting on one of the stools that flanked the island, leaning his arms on the edge of the counter.

"Depends."

Okay, now that didn't help Burt keep calm at all.

After dealing with all that had happened in Kurt's junior year of high school, he had hoped that by being on summer break for a few months that Kurt would be given a break as well. He was free to hang out with all his friends and boyfriend whenever he wanted, without the threat of constantly being on guard from little jerks in letterman jackets that took such pleasure in terrorizing his kid with their prejudice.

In fact, over the last few months, Kurt had been much happier than he ever remembered him being, at least before his Mom died when he was just a child. He had been bouncing around the house every day, either arguing with Finn about eating the last of the whole wheat bread without telling him, having the girls over for their afternoon socials, or even cuddling with Blaine on the couch as they watched Moulin Rouge for the thirtieth time, sitting far too close together in Burt's opinion, as they whispered the dialogue or sang the songs together.

But for Kurt to look so uncertain and upset, Burt could only imagine that something bad had happened. Did somebody try to make trouble for Kurt when he and the girls had gone to the mall the other day? Had he gotten one of those blasted harassment phone calls again, the ones that Kurt always tried to intercept before Burt answered? Or maybe it was something else, he had no idea.

"What's wrong, Kurt? Is somebody messing with you again? That Karofsky kid or Adams?" Burt fired off, his anger rising at the thought that maybe nothing had changed for his son, that maybe Kurt had just gotten better at hiding things he shouldn't need to. But Kurt interrupted his thoughts before he got too ahead of himself.

"What? No! Dad, no! No one's coming after me. It's not that at all." Kurt hurried to reply, rushing forward a few feet to his Dad's side in hopes of keeping him calm and as unstressed as possible, his small pale hands gently touching his father's strong right arm.

"Then what is it, Kurt? If no one's hurting you or threatening you, then why are you so jumpy?" Burt asked, breathing deeply and slowly to keep Kurt from worrying about his health. Kurt sighed, his cheeks flushing again, bright pink against the rest of his snow pale skin as he started to pick at a stray sweater thread.

"It's about Blaine." Kurt murmured before glaring at his father. "But before you start jumping to conclusions, Blaine hasn't done anything to me. I don't want to talk to you about something that Blaine supposedly did, but about something else…." Kurt trailed off again before taking a deep breath.

"I'm thinking about telling Blaine about….my PAIS."

…Okay, Burt could not have heard that right. Kurt was standing there, looking at him both expectantly and warily, and Burt had no idea how to answer him. He was so not ready for this.

"….Why?" Burt carefully questioned, still a bit blindsided by Kurt's statement. He already had an answer as to why his son would want to tell his boyfriend about his condition, but he really hoped that he was wrong. There was no way that Kurt was ready to have sex right now. He was only 17! His baby boy was way too young to be getting intimate with anybody, much less Blaine! He was supposed to wait till he was 30!

Kurt's blush still hadn't let up, only intensifying as he was forced to answer his Dad. "Dad, we're not having sex. I'm not ready for that step yet, and won't be for a while. It's just… Dad, I take my relationship with Blaine very seriously, and so does he. We've shared so much together, and I know that I can trust him with anything….including my PAIS."

Kurt's voice had dropped. "The thing is… I hate lying to him about this. He already knows that something's off with me."

Burt's eyes darted to Kurt's face. "How? When did this happen?"

Kurt sighed. "He caught me after one of my shots. It happened while I was at Dalton. Because of an assignment I was working on the night before, I overslept one day and didn't have time to take my hormones before breakfast like I normally do. I hurried back to my room after the Warblers meeting to take it and get a short nap before dinner, but what I didn't know was that Blaine had followed me back to the dorms. He told me later that he had been worried about me, that I had looked tired and worn out all day, which I was, and he had wanted to check up on me. I had just taken my shot when he knocked on my door, startling me into scratching myself with the syringe needle."

"I tried to hide the syringe and my hormones, but he saw the bloody needle and other used syringes in my trash can and the scratch on my hand. He started panicking and worrying himself into a fit, scared that I was doing drugs or something. While he was bandaging me up, I explained that I had to take the shots for my health and that the scratch was an accident. He became very quiet and I just knew he was thinking I had some kind of debilitating illness, so I had to tell him that it was something I was born with, that it wasn't going to hurt me or kill me. He calmed down after that and asked what I had." Kurt explained, his eyes focused on the beige tile of the kitchen floor. His hand never left his father's arm, just lightly gripping the rolled-up sleeve as Burt listened patiently.

"And what did you tell him?" Burt asked quietly, bringing his own large, broad hand up to cover his son's. Kurt looked up at him, his porcelain face distant with memory.

"Dad…I couldn't tell him then. I just _couldn't_. It was before we got together, before there was an actual chance of us being together. I couldn't just drop that bombshell on him. I ended up saying that I wasn't comfortable talking about it yet, and he understood. He promised not to push and said that whenever I wanted to talk, that he would be there." Kurt looked his father in the eyes. "And he kept his promise, Dad. Not once since then has he tried to pry it out of me. He just accepted it."

Kurt sighed and primly sat down on the stool next to Burt's. "For a while I forgot about it, what with Regionals and my transfer back to McKinley, but after we told each other 'I love you' after Nationals, I knew that I couldn't keep lying to him. Dad, I don't want to keep any secrets from Blaine. He means so much to me, and every day knowing that I'm keeping such a huge part of myself completely secret from him seems more and more unfair. I know that there are things he hasn't told me about his own past, and I know there are reasons why, but….I feel like I need to tell him. I need to tell him before we get any more serious."

Burt coughed uncomfortably with the brutal honesty Kurt was displaying, even with most of the blood in his body taking residence in his face. "And how serious are you already?"

Kurt glared slightly at Burt, but answered him anyway. "We've only gone as far as making out, Dad. No articles of clothing have been removed as of late, so no need to bust out the shotgun. And that's another thing! I know that talking about all of this with me is uncomfortable for you, but you were the one that wanted me to be totally honest about the topic." Kurt shot back, defiant with just a hint of hurt in his voice.

Burt rallied to reassure his son. "Now Kurt, don't start that again. I am not uncomfortable with this the way you're thinking. It has nothing to do with you being gay at all. You just have to understand that I'm your father, the man that helped make you and raised you. You will always be that tiny blue bundle your Mom and I brought home from the hospital, the little boy that talked me into having tea parties with you on the front lawn, and the adorable tike that used to cuddle with your Power Rangers when you went to sleep until you were six. And I'm sorry if you wanting to talk about possibly having sex with your boyfriend at any point in the future kinda scares me since it's proof that you're growing up too fast on me."

Burt turned in his seat to face his son, resting his wide palms on Kurt's shoulders, making sure to keep eye contact and a calm voice. "Kurt, I know that you're growing up and becoming a man. I know that you're getting closer and closer to that age when you'll have to make all the decisions in your life on your own. But you're still a kid to me, at least for a little while longer, and this is a big decision in and of itself. I remember when we had to tell Carole and Finn about your PAIS, and I remember how terrified you were that they were going to reject you. I understand how vulnerable and helpless you felt, Kurt. All I'm saying is, deciding to tell Blaine about this is a sign, to me at least, that you want a more mature relationship with him. You want to share more and more of yourself with him, and that's a huge step. I just want you to be sure of what you're getting yourself into."

Kurt opened his mouth to interject, but Burt cut him off. "Now, Kurt, you know I have nothing against Blaine. So far, he's been treating you right, respecting you, and making you happy, and that's all I ever wanted from your first boyfriend. But the very last thing I want is for you to get hurt if, for whatever reason, Blaine doesn't accept you or doesn't understand what you're telling him. I just want you to be careful, okay?"

Kurt nodded solemnly. In the back of his mind, those same worries had been circling like carrion birds ever since he started considering revealing the truth to Blaine. He knew in his heart that Blaine would never hurt him, at the very least unintentionally, but his cynical mind thought differently. His mind understood the hypocrisy and ignorance that he faced every day at the hands of Lima's citizens. He knew that there were so many people out there that would call him a freak of nature or a monster if he were to try to tell them about his condition. But for Kurt to even try to imagine Blaine doing that to him was impossible, he just couldn't picture it. He could feel the love Blaine had for him, he could feel it all the time when they were together and even when they were apart, so he shouldn't have been so scared of how Blaine might react.

But still the worries and anxiety existed. Kurt knew that he was taking a huge risk by telling Blaine. He realized that with Blaine knowing about his PAIS that whatever expectations Blaine had about their relationship would have to change, especially in the intimacy department. Kurt's situation was too different from what Blaine might have wanted for his first serious relationship. I mean, he had girl parts for crying out loud! Kurt was certain that when Blaine figured out that he was gay, he definitely wasn't expecting his first boyfriend to have a_ vagina_! It was just too out there to consider, too bizarre to be predicted.

But if Kurt was anything, he was practical and pragmatic in the end. Kurt realized that if he was willing to tell Blaine, then he_ was_ ready for a greater commitment between them, a more intimate bond built on trust and acceptance. And if Blaine couldn't handle the truth, then Blaine wasn't ready to continue their relationship and they would be over.

It was only with a sinking, pain-filled heart that Kurt came to this conclusion. If Blaine couldn't handle this, then they were done.

Looking up at his father, Kurt nodded. His shoulders felt heavier than they had earlier, but his mind was clearer than ever. "I understand, Dad. So, you don't have a problem with me telling him?"

Burt sighed, taking off his hat to rub his bald head. "No, I don't. It's ultimately your decision whether I agree with it or not, but no, I won't fight you if you want to tell him. I like Blaine, Kurt. He's a good guy for you, makes you happy and looks at you like you're the sun and the moon. More than anything, I want this all to work out for you. The only advice I'll give you is don't just blurt it out. I think that might give the poor kid a panic attack and faint…but with how short he is, he won't have far to fall."

And with that quip, the weighty tension lifted from the room, chased away by Kurt's indignant protests about his boyfriend's height and his father's laughter. But even with the sharp glare Kurt directed at Burt's chuckling face, the warm light in his glasz eyes only brightened.

It was in these small moments that Kurt was immensely grateful for his father.

On the outside, Burt seemed like the kind of man that could have been cloned from the general populace of small-town, small-minded America, the generation of people that preferred to stay tucked away in the back roads of the Bible Belt, far away from the progressive, high-life cities of LA and New York.

Dressed in old, worn Levis and oil-splattered plaid, from his trucker hat-donned head down to his work boot-bound feet, Burt Hummel was the kind of man people assumed would hate his gay son, treating him like the rest of the ignorant masses of Lima. An outsider would assume that he would be embarrassed by his flamboyantly dressed son, his high feminine voice, and his preference to loving men rather than settling down with a nice, local girl and raising a bushel of kids. One could assume a lot of Burt Hummel by his appearance.

But those assumptions couldn't be farther from the truth. Burt was indeed a burly man, butch and macho like people thought, but his heart and mind were far more open than anyone could believe. He had known when Kurt was just a child that his son was different, far different than he had ever anticipated. Kurt never acted like the other boys his age, outstandingly cautious with his clothes and created fantasy weddings with his Power Rangers instead of playing pee-wee football or superheroes. Kurt had adored singing along to Disney films and the old musical records that his late wife would play throughout the house while Burt was off to work instead of wanting to play with mini-monster trucks and watching to football games. Kurt abhorred dirt and roughhousing in favor of fashion, Broadway, and art.

By all accounts, Burt and his son were polar opposites, with nary a subject that could connect them besides cars and genetics.

But Burt loved his son anyway. He looked at the talented young man with such pride in his eyes that it would humble any other man. Kurt may not have been the son Burt had pictured the day he was born, physically or personality-wise, but he was still his son and was loved just as much if not more for it.


End file.
